


I Dare You

by LiteralTrashFor_Everything



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Mobtale (Undertale), Bara Sans (Undertale), Established Relationship, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Mafia Sans (Undertale), Marriage, No More Resets (Undertale), Overprotective Sans (Undertale), POV Female Character, Physical Abuse, Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader-Insert, Slight Sans POV, Smoker Sans (Undertale), Smut, Worried Sans (Undertale), but not really, mob boss sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 12:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17487899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteralTrashFor_Everything/pseuds/LiteralTrashFor_Everything
Summary: You were a mafia-boss's wife, and you were just as dangerous as one.  Not literally, of course, but everyone in the damn city knew that if they fucked with you, then that meant they'd have the Judge up their ass quicker than they could blink.  Hardly anyone messed with you for the fear that Sans and his friends (also yours, of course) would let their wrath down with relentless power.But that didn't mean everyone was so cautious.//Not apart of the real Mafiatale AU, more like my own twist on things, though it's not really that noticeable.//





	1. The Kidnapping

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a three-part series that I'm gonna upload all at once. It'll be a bit graphic at certain elements, but definitely nothing too bad. Honestly though, if anyone is interested in any smut in a forth part, please tell me! I'd definitely be up for writing some as an add-on. *wink* *wonk*
> 
> Anywhore, enjoy this little short-story I wrote. Leave some comments about how ya'll feel about this and if I should keep writing short-stories, or even if I should do a real Mafiatale/Mobtale novel!
> 
> Also, check out my current story, A Game of Revolution. (hopefully my link works and I don't look like an idiot)  
>  |  
>  |  
>  |  
>  |  
> \/  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194652

You tapped your fingers gently on the table, a book in the other hand. You scanned over every word, enjoying the mystery that was taking place. You sat in the eloquent diner, focused on finishing your murder mystery novel. It was nice to get out of the mansion, frankly. You were grateful for the distraction, which you didn't often have. Normally you were stuffed in a car with your husband to some big meeting, or stuck at home.

You grumbled a small curse as the mystery murderer was revealed, smacking your fist lightly on the table, making the glass of water beside you bounce slightly. You put the book down, swiping up the water droplets with a napkin.

You wished he was here with you, but he'd been the one who suggested that you get out for a few hours and enjoy some time on your own. Ever since the two of you had gotten married, 'alone time' usually meant the two of you, not just you. Still, he was looking out for you. Besides, it wasn't like he could be here anyway. He was at a meeting. By 'meeting' you supposed he meant he was doing some damn criminal activity, or skulking around in some speakeasy to keep an eye out for one of the Monolari's sons, or you supposed he really could be in a lame meeting with another boss.

To say your husband was a gangster would be a complete understatement to what he actually was, and probably a personal offense to the man.

Not only was he gangster, but he was one of the most dangerous men in Ebbot City. He was the most well-known mafia boss in the city, with a reputation of being called the Grim Reaper or the Judge, neither of which he of course minded being called. Then, to his workers (or occasionally his brother) and friends, he was usually just Boss. To you, though, it was just Sans. Sans, the monster you'd married when you were still a naive book store owner who'd taken over your grandmother's bookstore.

You recalled the moment you'd met the damn guy. He'd intimidated the hell out of you, and for good reason. Sans stood at a good 6'4", and was a complete walking and talking skeleton, standing beside his even taller 7' brother and an intimidating shark-like woman who both talked loud enough to shake the glass windows. Sans' voice wasn't nearly as loud, but it was deep and baritone, sending a shudder down your spine as he questioned you on the store. All that, and it wasn't even the scariest part about the damn guy. It was the way he was dressed, a black pinstripe suit with a cyan blue dress shirt beneath it, the gun on his hip, and the dangerous gleam in his eye, shadowed beneath a black fedora, that made you instantaniously nervous around him. Everyone knew him, even a nobody like you. He was the guy who's territory your little residence rested, and the guy who intimidated even the strongest human mafia bosses.

So, why'd he have to step into your stupid little book store?

He wasn't cruel or anything, just big. . . and intimidating as hell. Still, the more he talked, the less intimidating him and his friends became. He started making trips monthly, then weekly, then damn-near every day. He'd bring flowers and a new book for you every day, which was when he finally had you wrapped around his finger. He simply became Sans to you, insisting that you call him by his real name over every other one he had. He became the lame jokester and the cuddle-bug, and the teddy bear who enjoyed watching lame romance movies in the theatre a little too much.

You smiled at the recollection of all the memories you'd shared with him, before and after your marriage. Now, you were right on top of the pedastal with him. You were a mafia-boss's wife, and you were just as dangerous. Not literally, of course, but everyone in the damn city knew that if they fucked with you, then that meant they'd have the Judge up their ass quicker than they could blink. Hardly anyone messed with you for the fear that Sans and his friends (also yours, of course) would let their wrath down with relentless power.

But that didn't mean everyone was so cautious.

The sound of a gunshot instantly sent the building into a frenzy. You dove beneath the table instantly, hearing screams ringing out around you. You covered your mouth as three gunshots echoed through the building, followed instantly by the sound of only two 'thumps'. Another woman ducked beneath the table with you. You instantly clung to her, trying to hush her quiet sobbing and comfort her. She held to your dress like her life depended on it, which, right now, it did.

The building was silent for a few moments, but you knew the danger wasn't gone. The other people in the building had hid behind tables or evacuated, while you knew there were two people who'd been shot. Whether they were dead or alive was currently a mystery.

"Come on out, darlin'! We know you're in here!" A faintly familiar voice called out.

You didn't recognize the owner of the voice, but knew the voice from _somewhere._ Oh god, you wished Sans was here. . .

"Come on, _____! We know yur in here! Come on out, darlin'!"

The sound of two other men chuckling echoed out after his calls. You covered your mouth, stiffening as he called your name. They were here for you. This'd never happened before, and you had no idea how to react. Sans or another person was always there to protect you if someone ever made a move against you.

Though, that hardly ever happened. No one was usually stupid enough to come straight after you.

The woman looked at you, but didn't say anything. She continued holding onto you tightly. Neither of you made a single move to move. You were clinging onto her too, terror running tightly through your veins.

"Don't make me shoot another innocent person, dolly!" The familiar voice sang, cackling.

Three gunshots rang out, shooting out a few of the windows as an emphasis. You shuddered, holding back a scream as the one above your booth shattered, spraying glass onto the table above you. Footsteps echoed eerily through the building, cracking through the broken glass on the floor. Your arms tightened around the woman beside you as they came closer.

There was a deep chuckle as the man stopped by your table. You stared at his shoes, begging him not to look beneath the table, though you knew he would. He kneeled down, his eyes spotting the two of you instantly. Your own eyes widened as you recognized him immediately. He was one of Sans' men, one of the few humans who worked for your husband. You'd never really trusted him, but it wasn't ever a problem or for any good reason.

Now you knew that you had good cause.

Peterson's hand snapped forward the grabbed your ankle. You instantly thrashed, trying to escape his hold. He dragged you from beneath the table. The woman frantically tried to pull you back to her, to help you despite the situation.

"Let go, Peterson!" You yelled.

Peterson only laughed, grabbing you by the hair and throwing you down onto the floor on the opposite side of the table. Your skin burned as glass tug into it, forcing a small whimper from you. You glared up at him, clutching onto your bleeding hand, where large gash now damaged your palm.

"Sans trusted you!" You screamed in tears.

"Hah, well. . . I'm not exactly in a position to care right now, am I, darlin'?"

The two other men chuckled beside him, eyeing you like candy. Your eyes narrowed as you attempted to mask your fear. You didn't recognize the other two, only Peterson. Maybe if you kept them distracted long enough, then Sans would hear the news and would come help you.

Though, you had a feeling Peterson was more prepared than that to attack the most famous mafia-boss' wife.

"Grab 'er, boys. I want her hauled off before that fucking skeleton gets here, understand?"

The two men nodded instantly, before they grabbed your arms. You thrashed, trying to get away. You didn't care how much glass dug into your skin. You had to get away. Peterson chuckled lowly, watching you, while the other people screamed in fear.

"Aye, wait!"

Peterson grabbed your jaw, turning your head toward him. You spat on his face. He growled, grip tightening. He wiped it with his sleeve.

"I oughta whack that bravery outta you, woman," he hissed.

Your own eyes narrowed. You would've done more, but didn't have time to before he was taking ahold of your hand. He glared at your wedding ring, before he grabbed it and yanked it off. Your eyes widened.

"Give it back!"

Peterson chuckled. He stood up, holding the ring up into the light. He waved off the men lazily. You struggled, screaming and trying not to cry. It was difficult, but you somehow managed. You wouldn't give them the pleasure of seeing Sans' wife crying. You were better than that, and you were damn-well determinted to make sure they knew it.

"Sans'll kill you!" You screamed as they dragged you out of the building. "He'll fucking kill you!"

The men only laughed in response. You found yourself being dragged toward a nice car, which almost reminded you of the one Sans owned. You let your thoughts drift away from that as you were shoved into the car, sitting between the two men, though it was more like you were sitting on their lap. You thrashed, trying to get away.

"Let me go!" You yelled.

One of the men snapped a gloved hand over your mouth. He nodded to the other man, who started shuffling for something. You trembled, eyes snapping toward him as he pulled out a fine wrap of cloth, obviously meant to gag you. One man held your jaw open while the other tied it tightly around your head, efficiently gagging you. You let your head fall forward, tears threatening to spill. You blinked them away frantically as Peterson got into the driver's seat, insantly taking away.

Shit, you couldn't believe this was happening. You'd just been kidnapped, and you were damn-certain that Peterson would take you somewhere that your husband wouldn't so easily find you. Oh. . . Your husband. . . You felt completely humiliated. That bastard of a traitor had torn off your ring, your most precious possession. Sans was going to be so furious when he found out. He'd burn down the whole city searching for you. . .

More tears pooled in your eyes, and this time they really did spill down your cheeks. Your shoulders shook.

"Awe, lookie, boss~"

One of the men grabbed your jaw, raising your head and forcing you to face Peterson. You glared, despite your tears. Peter cackled, staring at you in the rearview mirror.

"Never seen ya cry, darlin'. Thought that stupid skeleton had you trained better than that."

All three men chuckled. You trembled, looking back down to your lap, analyzing the best way out of this situation. Things. . . Weren't looking good. . . You were surrounding on either side by two burly men, blocking both escape doors/windows. You supposed that if you moved quick enough you could get up to the passenger seat and jump out, considering the car wasn't moving very fast. . . It was the only shot you had. A very risky one, sure, but it was the only chance.

You glanced at the two men beside you. Both were focused out the windows. They weren't gripping onto you, but their hands were resting on your thighs uncomfortably. If you moved quick enough, they wouldn't have time to react if you bolted forward. You could climb over the seat and throw open the door. This would at least alert someone outside, even if they did grab you before you could jump out. . .

You leaped forward once the plan was set. You bolted over the seat ahead of you, barely missing being grabbed by the ankle. You reached for the doorhandle-

click

Cold metal pressed into your temple, your fingers just barely grazing the handle. You were completely frozen in place and had to swallow down a sob at the fact that _you'd almost made it._ Peterson stared ahead at the road, one hand on the wheel while the other was pressing a gun to your head.

"My reaction time is much quicker than yours, darlin'. I suggest you move away from the door or I'll shove a bullet through that pretty little head before you even have time to open it," He growled.

You slowly pulled your hand away, trembling. There was a rough grab at your hair by a man from behind, and your head was abruptly slammed into the glass, knocking you completely unconcious.

 


	2. Most Precious Item

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is completely in the point of view of Sans.

Sans sat at his meeting, chin resting on his palm as the head honcho of the Morteti family. He glanced down lazily at his watch a few times, completely uninterested in the big schpeel on why Sans should give the bastard more land or property. Sans was more interested in getting home to his wife and away from the work setting. He'd been here all day, listening to the same damn thing for hours.

"as i've said for the last five hours, pal, i ain't interested. you're the one who lost the land in the first place, and i ain't intersted in helping a lowlife family that couldn't keep their head up," he stated, patience thinning.

Morteti frowned.

"Come on, ya bastard, you can't seriously be calling ME apart of a lowlife family?" He hissed.

Sans smirked smugly. He straightened his posture, staring at the man intently. This was followed by a sigh from Papyrus, who was leaning on the wall behind him, next to the door.

"technically, you said it yourself. remember earlier when you claimed the family was stuck being a bunch a lowlifes in a small territory, if i, 'didn't give ya the land you desperately needed'." The skeleton chuckled.

Damn him and his memory, Morteti mentally cursed. He narrowed his eyes at the skeleton, who was clearly winning the battle. Sans finally stood up, waving a gloved hand lazily at the man. He rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, before fixing one of the straps of his suspenders. He walked to the cabinet, grabbing a bottle of monster whiskey and pooring himself and the man a shot.

"i'll share another shot with ya, pal, then i want you outta here. i got better things ta do than sit here with you, like getting home to my wi-"

The door flew open, all eyes instantly darting toward the panting secretary/ex-boss at the door. Toriel's red eyes were wide, only focused on Sans. Papyrus had thankfully jumped out of the way of the flying door.

"_____ was kidnapped!" She gasped out.

Sans grip on the shotglass went so tight that the glass shattered in his hand. He was wordless as he grabbed his gun, waving a hand to have the Morteti man showed out. Sans didn't bother putting on a coat or his hat, storming out with Papyrus, Undyne, and Toriel on his heel. He literally growled, the pinpricks of his eyes completely extinguished.

"where?" He hissed to Toriel, voice so deep and laced with fury that even Papyrus flinched.

"Boss, we aren't sure-"

Sans whipped around, fists clenched.

"what the hell you mean you 'aren't sure'?" He growled. "you gotta be sure! who the hell took 'er and where are they?"

Toriel swallowed. No one had ever seen Sans this furious. She stepped forward, taking ahold of his lower arm, as if to steady him before she said her next words. He stared at her intently, clearly wanting a better answer than the last one she gave.

"We don't know what happened. There was a shooting-"

"-a fuckin' shooting-"

"-at Maria's Diner," Toriel continued, but Sans was gone by the time the location had been said.

Sans looked around the destroyed diner, glass pieces scattered everywhere on the ground. There were two bodies, two men, one older and one younger. There were also police and many terrified families. They all looked at Sans the moment he appeared, but no one made a move toward him, not even an officer. He clenched his fists, eyes darting around the building for his wife. His soul sank when he saw her no where, though he knew he should've been expecting it. She'd been kidnapped, as Toriel had stated.

Sans stepped through the glass, looking for any evidence left behind. He spotted a familiar silver band, instantly stopping in his tracks. His wife's wedding ring rested on the cover of her favorite novel on a table dead-center in the building. Sans grabbed it and the book, examining both. His soul was pounding against his sternum, something he didn't even think was possible.

It was aching.

Sans clenched his fists, the ring in his hand. He whipped around, staring down everyone in the building. They were all silent, half expecting him to start shooting, but he wouldn't. Sans' eyes landed on the woman who was beginning to stand up. She gripped a handkerchief in her fist, her entire body trembling.

"Y-You're here for t-that girl, aren't you?" She spoke quietly.

The other people stared at her in awe, as if she was the bravest person alive. Sans' eyes narrowed, but he too was impressed by her bravery. She sniffled, bringing the cloth to her face to wipe her tears. Sans stepped toward her.

"my wife. i'm here for my wife..." He mumbled.

There was a few moments of silence. People shot Sans pity glances, the seven words changing the mood completely.

"S-She was grabbed by those men," the woman was crying now, "she seemed to know the guy, but she never. . ." The woman paused.

The entire diner was listening now, but no one nearly as focused as Sans.

"name. i needa name."

"Peterson. . . His name was Peterson, I think."

A completely new look consumed Sans' expression. His eyelights had disappeared once again, and he found rage boiling in the very marrow of his bones. He was absolutely seething, and the whole building could feel it. Sans stormed past the woman, toward the exit just as Papyrus and Undyne scrambled inside, panting. He growled lowly.

"Who was it? Where's _____?" Pap asked anxiously, following his brother.

"Yeah, Boss, where's-"

"i don't fuckin' know, but i'mma kill the bastard the took her fifty times over. that damn fucker. . . i knew he had something on _____, dammit, but i didn't do anything!" Sans slammed a fist into the brick wall outside, his left eye glowing a bright cyan blue, "that damn peterson has her. he took off her wedding band, look."

Sans opened his hand, showing the ring to his companions. They remained silent, letting him seeth.

"i want you two to find that stupid car of his. search the whole damn city, i don't care about territory boundaries." He finally said, walking away.

Papyrus and Undyne swallowed, glancing at each other. Papyrus nodded, before setting off on his own path to find his sister-in-law. Undyne went off in the opposite direction. The three of them, and the rest of Sans' fleet, searched all of Ebbot for Sans' missing wife. His soul continued thudding, the thought of losing his most precious item was more terrifying than the idea of losing all the power he held over the city.

He couldn't lose her. He simply couldn't.

 


	3. Only His

You let out a quiet groan, but it was muffled by the gag. Your eyes were blurry as you opened them. You flinched at the light. It sparked another painful spark through your head, causing another groan to spill from your lips. You reached up to rub the blurriness from your eyes, only to find that your hands were strapped behind you. You insantly remembered your situation, quickly attempting to blink away the blurriness.

You were in a room, a nice one, but it was more like an interrogation room. It was all white walls and tiled flooring, with the chair you were sitting in propped dead-smack in the center of the small, square room. There were no windows, nor anything else in the room except for one other chair in the corner.

You swallowed down your fear, trying to free your hands from the ropes around your wrists. The struggling cause a burn on your skin, but you ignored it, more focused on trying to free yourself.

The door opened, and in stepped your captor. Peterson watched you in amusement, shutting the door behind him. He grabbed the chair in the corner, tugging it so he was sitting directly in front of you, too close for your liking. He crossed a leg over the other, his ankle sitting on the opposite thigh.

"You know, I wasn't sure if things would work how they did," he started speaking.

You just wanted to slap that smug look off his face. Peter reached up, running his thumb uncomfortably over your bottom lip. You turned your head away, frowning.

"I've been planning this out for months," he stated, grabbing ahold of your jaw and forcing you to face him, "I made up plan after plan before settling on this one, and damn was it hard to get you to a vulnerable position without that stupid skeleton being there. Not only that, but I was beginning to think he picked up on my complete infatuation with you. This was just the perfect timing. I mean, hell, look at you. . . All vulnerable sitting in that diner. I'm startin' to think I should have just jumped you sooner."

A chill ran down your spine as he spoke so casually, tugging off the gag from your mouth.

"Now you're all mine, and I plan on dusting that stupid skeleton to make sure it stays that way. But that'll take more planning. It'll take a lot to whack that stupid guy. He just doesn't wanna die," Peterson chuckled, "but now his defenses are down. He'll have every one of his men out searching for your sweet little ass, won't he? He'll be completely exposed for a bullet to just-" He made a gun with his fingers, pressing it straight to your forehead. "Bang." He chuckled.

Peterson stood up from his chair, kicking it away from him. He kneeled in front of you, sliding a hand up your thigh. You shuddered, quickly tightening your legs closed, eyes narrowing.

"Don't touch me," you spat.

Peterson let out a bored sigh. He didn't move, keeping a hand on your thigh. Your eyes were narrowed as you stared at the bastard. He was insane, and you hoped your husband would arrive soon enough to rescue you from his insanity. You knew Sans would find you eventually. You hoped he would. . .

"Thinkin' about your hubby, ain't you?"

Peterson growled, grabbing ahold of your jaw. You frowned, staring at him with a glare so intense it could almost kill. He only smirked in response.

"'Course you are. That's probably all you ever think about. Too bad he's gonna be dusted before he can find you. I'll make damn sure of that."

"Tch," you scoffed, "good luck killing him. Like you said, he doesn't wanna die."

"Don't test me, girl."

"Hell, he'll probably hold himself together enough just to have the satisfaction of putting a bullet through your skull and die right afterward, just so you don't get the chance to have him killed while you're alive."

Peterson raised his hand, delivering a hard slap to your cheek. It was so hard it made your head swing to the side. Tears stung your eyes and you frantically blinked them away. You rolled your jaw, trying to ease away the pain. Peterson's hand was now gripping your thigh, hard enough that it'd surely leave a bruise.

"You're a cocky little bitch," he snapped, "no wonder that idiot likes you so much. You're jus' like him-"

　

　

**_"just like who, p a l. . . . . ? i dare you to finish that sentence. . ."_ **

　

　

You watched absolute terror spread across that bastard's face at the sound of a familiar voice. Your eyes snapped up toward the smirking skeleton behind him. The widest grin spread across your face at the sight of your husband, despite the fact that most people would be terrified if they saw the state he was in. He had blood on his white sleeves, which were clumsily rolled up to his elbows. His pupils were completely extinguished, showing absolutely no emotion in the voids of his sockets. He was gripping his gun, the barrel of it pressed against the back of Peterson's head. A cigar hung from his teeth, smoke slithering from his sockets, nasal hole, and mouth.

"H-How'd you...-"

"don't worry about it, bud. i'm more concerned about my darlin' over there."

Sans' head turned in your direction. The lights in his eyes appeared, and you could see the worry in his eyes.

"S-Sans..." Tears had now welled in your own eyes.

Sans shoved Peterson away from you. Dogaressa and Dogamy grabbed him, making sure he didn't crawl away. Sans now kneeled in front of you, his large hands reaching up to cup your cheeks. His thumb ran over the forming bruise on your cheek.

"did he do this to ya, doll?" Sans growled, already knowing the answer.

You nodded slowly. The pupils in his eyes dimmed slightly. He was shaking, anger coursing through the very marrow of his bones. He held himself back from cutting off that bastard's dick right then and there.

"what do ya want me to do to him, darlin'? i'll do anything you want."

You hated that offer. You weren't a killer, and you didn't want to become one now.

"I just wanna go home, Sans. . ."

He let out a soft sigh. He knew that'd be your answer, but he still wanted to ask. He stood up, walking behind you and carefully untying the ropes digging into your wrists. He pressed his teeth gently into the dark bruises wrapped around your skin, gently taking one of your hands and helping you to your feet. He guided you to the door.

"papyrus is just down the hall, darlin." His eye lights shot to the terrified and sobbing man on the floor. "i'll be home in a bit."

Part of you wished he would just come home now, but you knew he'd never rest if he wasn't the one to give hell to Peterson. You knew he was probably hitting himself over the fact that one of his own men had been the one to hurt you. You also knew exactly how the rest of your night was gonna go once your husband did get home. You could see every emotion that was going through him right now, and only one of them would be soothed by Sans being the person to torture the living hell out of Peterson.

"Alright, Sans. . ." You murmured, leaning up and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheekbone. "Be careful."

Sans watched you leave, waiting until he knew you were far enough, before he shut and locked the door. He turned to Peterson, who was wailing out apologies on the floor. Sans smirked, eye lights disappearing once more.

"i wanna hear about every. single. thing. you did to my darlin', ya hear?" He grabbed one of the chairs, sitting in it. "starting now."

　

You sat on the couch in the mansion's living room, wrapped up in your favorite knitted blanket from Toriel and reading your favorite novel. Well. . . Second favorite. Your real favorite had been abandoned at the diner. Papyrus was in the kitchen, singing loudly as he cooked what was most likely some type of pasta. He claimed it'd help you feel better within seconds of tasting it. Honestly, you had no doubt about that.

It'd been hours, and Sans still wasn't home. Many people had visited you over the course of those hours, starting with Toriel who sat with you for a long time before she had to leave. This was followed by Alphys, who decided to read some of the newest comic books with you. You wondered how hard it was to get ahold of those comics, considering that they must've just been freshly printed. Hell, you were about half-certain that they hadn't even been officially released yet. You wondered if Alphys had somehow managed to guilt-trip your husband into nabbing those comics for her. . .

"How a-a-are you d-doing, ______?" Alphys finally asked, her gaze no longer focused on the comic book. She'd been avoiding that question since she arrived, but you knew it'd be coming sooner or later.

You smiled sadly.

"I'll survive." You said. "Thanks to Sans. He's always saving me."

Alphys sighed, resting the comic open on her lap.

"Y-You've never b-been kidnapped before, _-_____."

You suddenly found the comic book much more interesting than this conversation, and stared at the pages of it intently. You bit your bottom lip.

"Well. . . I'll survive."

You thought about your words after Alphys had left. You couldn't even focus on your book. You weren't wrong, you'd survive, but you definitely should have told her you were actually alright. Sans had never let you down before, and you knew he never would. You should've told her that, while you were scared, you were also very happy to know Sans would never fail to be your hero.

Your gaze snapped upward as the front door swung open. Your husband stepped inside, his eyelights instantly landing on you, as if he was afraid you wouldn't be here when he got home. He sighed, looking relieved. He shut the door behind him, walking to you. He sat down on the couch, an arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you onto his lap. He grabbed your hand, digging through his pocket for something, before sliding on your wedding ring. He gave your knuckles a soft kiss.

"that bastard was really taunting me by leaving this ring behind," he stated.

You smiled a bit, resting your head on his sternum gently.

"ain't never gonna let anything like that happen to you again, got it? you're mine, and the only reason that'll ever change is if someone dusts me or we grow old together."

"Yeah well, no one's gonna dust you," you stated.

"exactly."

You laughed a bit. Sans lifted your head, leaning down and pressing his teeth against your soft lips in a kiss. You tasted the whiskey and smoke on his teeth and tongue, and had to force yourself to pull away. You raised a brow at him.

"Sans, have you been drinking?"

He huffed, chuckling. He nuzzled his teeth against your neck softly.

"'course i have. my fuckin' wife got kidnapped and if you think i haven't been runnin' about this city with my head spinning to find 'er, then you're totally wrong."

You giggled.

"I've been waiting for you this whole time, you jerk, and you've been drinking without me."

Sans chuckled, his smooth tongue gliding gently over the skin on your neck, hands holding your hips.

"hell yes, i think i deserve it. do you even _know_ how many bullets it took to take that guy out?"

You rolled your eyes.

"I'd rather not."

Sans only chuckled, dragging his tongue down your throat, teeth scraping over the skin gently. He licked over all the small marks. He pulled you tighter against him, your chest pressing into his ribcage beneath his shirt. You breathed out a soft moan, letting your head fall back to give him more room, arms wrapping around his neck.

"SANS, HONESTLY, YOU CAN'T EVEN WAIT UNTIL I AM GONE?!" Came Papyrus' loud voice from the entryway of the kitchen.

You flished instantly, eyes darting toward the taller skeleton brother, who's cheeks were burning bright orange from catching you and Sans. He, frankly, should've been used to it by now. This was definitely not the first time this'd happened. Hence, part of the reason Sans was completely unfazed by the interruption. He continued ravishing your skin, a hand sliding beneath your shirt gently, thankfully also hidden beneath the blanket.

"fine, then get 'outta here, bro. don'tcha know you should be prepared for this when I get home?"

Papyrus grumbled about how the spaghetti was on the counter for whenever you were hungry, and about how his brother was a serious 'horn-dog', whatever that meant. He left with an awkward goodbye, leaving you and Sans snickering.

"classic." Sans smirked.

"You're awful." You giggled.

Sans' hands gripped your ass. He chuckled, standing up with you and carrying you to the bedroom effortlessly.

"you won't be sayin' that for long, dollface," he winked.

And on came the solution to Sans' second and third emotional struggle. Sans proceeded to prove to you that you were _his_ and his _only_ , for the rest of the night through the way he knew best, and let out any doubt that you would find someone better than a skeleton. Not, of course, that you'd ever doubted you weren't his, or that he was the best husband you could ask for.

 


End file.
